


Frozen Mercury

by starry19



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry19/pseuds/starry19
Summary: "It was easy, this - being with her. When he wasn’t being afraid that he was pushing her, or was being too much, or was entirely too damaged to have the ghost of a chance. When he didn’t think, when he just reacted to her…it was the simplest thing he had ever done. "





	Frozen Mercury

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well, hello there. Again, I’m not dead (why have I had to say that a lot?), just busy. This started with one sentence and magically turned itself into a fic. I haven’t had a lot of inspiration lately, so this story is mostly just me practicing how to write again. Not my favorite piece, but I suppose it works. Cheesy and cliche, just the way I like ‘em.
> 
>  
> 
> I’d love to hear what you think!

 

**Frozen Mercury**

They had switched safe houses three times in the past ten days. If it was possible, their current location was worse than the original bunker. Bigger, yes, but more run down and certainly colder. This whole area of the _country_ was colder. Not cold like the Soviet Union in winter, but as someone who had been spending a lot of time in California in recent years, noticeably chilly. 

As a group, they were exhausted. Chasing Emma through time was dangerous, and dodging bullets took its toll on a body. Add moving and general uncertainty to the mix, and it was a wonder no one had just decided to lay down and sleep in the middle of the concrete floor. 

Lucy appeared to be considering it, wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The dark shadows under her eyes were alarming. 

The first night they moved houses, she sat up with him all night, sorting through the chaos in her mind. He was more than happy to be her sounding board, to pour her drinks (and eventually coffee), to help her make a little bit of sense out of this world. They were both battered and sore from the horror that had been Chinatown, and he was feeling more emotionally fragile that he had in a long, long time. Spending six continuous hours listening to Lucy’s voice as she spoke to him and only him did a lot for his mental state. 

After they switched houses the second time, he had found her asleep on one of the couches in the middle of the night. She looked deeply uncomfortable, and cold, and he had draped his sweatshirt over her, since no one had been able to locate the box with government-issue bedding in it. 

Now, tonight, the cold seeping in from poorly sealed windows and doors, he wondered if anyone would object to him starting an actual fire. 

He and Lucy appeared to be the only ones still awake. 

“You look pretty beat,” he said, but gently. “Go to sleep.” 

She shook her head. “I can’t hardly fall asleep when I’m this cold,” she told him. “And when I do, I have awful dreams.” 

This last was said in a whisper, and he peered closer. 

She tried to smile at him. “I’d even take one of the old radiators, you know, the ones that clang all the time? I’d probably kill to sleep beside one of those. I don’t remember what it was like to be _not_ freezing.” 

He took a breath. 

_What the hell, right?_

He casually stood next to her, put a hand on her back, ushered her down the narrow hall. “Come on,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear his heart pounding. 

She looked askance at him, but said nothing until he’d led her into the room that was theoretically his. 

He gestured at the bed. “In,” he told her. This one was slightly larger than the one that he’d folded himself into at the bunker, so thank God for small favors. 

Lucy didn’t move.

“In,” he said again, giving her a gentle shove, before following.

She was clearly a bit taken aback, but he matter-of-factly wrapped his arms around her, then adjusted the covers around them. As he moved the wool blanket off Lucy’s shoulders, he noticed she was wearing his sweatshirt, and he smiled. 

Her hands rested tentatively on his sides. 

“I might not be a clanging heater,” he told her, “but I _am_ roughly 98 degrees.” 

He could feel her smile. That was a positive sign. 

Her fingers moved a little, her body relaxing a bit as she fitted herself again him. 

She had not been kidding about being freezing. 

Lucy sighed as she pressed closer, stocking feet tucked between his calves. Her hands skirted down his chest, and he winced as her fingers slid under his shirt to rest on his bare stomach. He did not, however, move. 

“Jesus, woman,” he hissed. “I think you have frostbite.” 

“Oh, God, that feels so nice,” she said, ignoring him, hands pressed flat against his skin.

He couldn’t help his grin. “You’re not the first woman to say that to me in bed,” he teased. Was rewarded with a gentle smack to his chest. 

They shifted, her head resting in the crook of his elbow, his arm draped over her waist. Lucy’s eyes were closed, dark lashes resting against pale cheeks. 

It was easy, this - being with her. When he wasn’t being afraid that he was pushing her, or was being too much, or was entirely too damaged to have the ghost of a chance. When he didn’t think, when he just reacted to her…it was the simplest thing he had ever done. 

When she was in danger, he saved her. 

When she was alone, he stayed at her side.

When she was hurt, he held her. 

It all sounded so easy, laid out that way. 

Her hands were still beneath his shirt, her soft skin much warmer now than it had been. She seemed so tiny in his shirt, the sleeves rolled back several times. Still, he liked it on her. It felt a little as though she was making a statement. She knew it was his, after all. 

He tugged once at the hem of it. “This is a good look for you,” he teased. 

She didn’t open her eyes. “It’s warmer than anything I own,” she said. “Besides,” she added, sounding a little shy, “it smells like you.”

He froze for a moment, stunned, then recovered. “I hope that’s a good thing.” 

Her lips turned up. “It is,” she assured him. 

He waited, but she didn’t seem inclined to expound on that. He should not be greedy, but _damn_ , he probably would have given a year of his life to hear her reasons. 

There was a comfortable silence. Lucy sighed once, snuggling closer. He let her, nose in her hair. Her muscles, tense when they started this, were relaxed. 

“Getting warm?” he asked, quietly. 

“If I say yes are you going to kick me out?” she replied, cheek against his heart. 

“I could probably be persuaded to let you stay,” he said, laughter in his voice. 

“Can I stay?” she nearly whispered. 

He tightened his arms. “Of _course_ you can.” 

“You’re sure I’m not bothering you?” she wanted to know. “If you’d rather be by yourself, that’s fine.” 

Frowning now, he tipped her chin up, urging her to look at him. 

“Lucy,” he said, very seriously. “I want you to be here. And not just because you’re cold.” 

Her eyes met his, dark and sober and a little hopeful. Christ, she was hoping that he… 

“I want you here,” he said again. It was grossly inadequate, but he couldn’t force out any other words. 

Fortunately, Lucy still had the ability to read his expressions like an open book, to understand what he couldn’t bring himself to say. She reached out, gently rested her fingers against his cheek.

Being touched like this was…indescribable. He kissed her palm, still holding her gaze. 

“Good,” she finally whispered. “I want to be here, too. And not just because you’re a very convenient source of body heat.” She paused, then smiled. “Though I admit that’s certainly a point in your favor.” 

He laughed, marveling even as he did so. When was the last time he had laughed in bed with a woman? When was the last time he had been close enough, comfortable enough with someone to do this?

Lucy tucked herself a little further into him, arms around his waist. He squeezed her briefly, then readjusted their blankets. 

Jiya found them the next morning, Lucy still burrowed into him in her sleep. 

He was awake, though he hadn’t been for long, when he heard Jiya on the other side of the door. Silently cursing, he realized the damn thing wasn’t locked. 

The handle turned inexorably. 

Jia stared, mouth falling open, before recovering nicely, eyes laughing at him. 

“I was looking for you,” she whispered. “And Lucy.” There was a very amused break. “Didn’t expect to find you like this, however.”

He raised an eyebrow, but looked compulsively at the woman in his arms. 

Jiya’s expression changed. Softened. “We found something we need to talk about,” she breathed. “Team meeting in fifteen.” 

For a second, he gave Jiya his undivided attention. “Rufus?” he asked. “Did you find him?”

The other woman looked fiercely hopeful for just a second. “Maybe.” 

He nodded. “We’ll be there.” 

The door closed behind her, and he flopped back down to the pillow, one hand across his eyes. He felt a little like a teenager that had been caught making out in a parking lot. 

The covers rustled and he felt Lucy prop herself up with an elbow on his chest. He took his hand away. 

She looked deeply amused and a little embarrassed but not ashamed or regretful. “Well,” she said. 

“Well,” he repeated, lips curved up. 

They shared a quiet laugh, then Lucy began the process of untangling herself from him and the nest of blankets they’d been in. He was not a fan of the whole ordeal. 

She did look a bit more well-rested and bright eyed than she had the day before, even as tousled and sleep rumpled as she was now. 

With a sigh that he liked to think was regretful, she pushed herself up, and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Scrubbing her hands through her hair, she turned and smiled down at him. It had a decidedly flirtatious edge. 

“I talked to Agent Christopher last night,” she said. 

“Oh?” he asked, wondering where on earth this was going. 

“She thinks we’ll be here for at least a week.” Lucy looked around his admittedly pathetic room. 

“Delightful,” he told her. 

Her grin widened and she raised her eyebrows. “The temperature is supposed to keep dropping,” she informed her. “It’s going to feel like an igloo in here.” 

He adopted a casual expression. “If only you had some source of…how did you put it?…convenient body heat?” 

She sighed dramatically. “If _only_.” Unexpectedly, she tipped forward and kissed his cheek. 

And then she was gone, wrapping a striped blanket around herself on the way out. 

He smiled.

And kept smiling. 

And was still smiling that night when she crawled into bed beside him again. She had stolen another one of his shirts, this time a black turtleneck that hung nearly to her knees. He didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, she could steal every item of clothing he owned if she wanted. 

Sometime in the darkness, he was unable to resist, and brushed his lips across hers. He kept the pressure light, undemanding. At least until she knotted her fingers in his hair and opened her mouth beneath his. 

He kissed her until they were both gasping, until she was clutching at him, until his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

When he finally raised his head, she ducked hers and tucked her face into his neck. It was quite a time to be shy, but he chuckled anyway.

He wondered if she had any idea what she was getting herself into. 

Come to that, he wondered if _he_ had any idea of what he was getting himself into. 

Probably not, he decided. But it hardly seemed to matter. 

This glorious woman was his. His to hold at night, his to dream about. Whatever else would come, there was that. 

And it would be enough. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
